You got your marriage certificate and then abandoned me? I'll feed the richest woman in the wor

Her voice was soft and sweet with a slightly husky quality.

In the quiet master bedroom late at night, it's like a wind chime hanging under the eaves.

The evening breeze gently stirred up a hint of girlish arrogance.

Even though her face is etched with the lines of time.

But in front of Chen Yuan, she would never learn what true poise and composure were.

A temperamental person who has been doing this for decades.

This man had long since instilled in her an inescapable muscle memory through his daily meals.

Chen Yuan leaned against the headboard.

Listening to that familiar, shameless coquettishness.

Those dark eyes, deep and unfathomable like an ancient pool, had been the subject of half a century of battles in the business world.

A layer of indulgence and warmth surged forth, impossible to dispel.

A low sigh escaped from his chest.

"It's the middle of the night, and with your stomach like that, if you eat too much, you'll be complaining of pain again tomorrow."

Despite complaining like that.

But his large hand, covered with brown spots and calluses.

She had already lifted the thick silk quilt covering her body.

The cold air seeped into the bed through the gaps in the corner of the blanket.

Chen Yuan did not hesitate.

Slowly, he braced himself against the edge of the bed and moved to the side.

In his youth, he possessed the strength to lift a 200-pound strongman with one arm.

Under the relentless erosion of time, it inevitably deteriorated in the end.

The joints made a few dry, cracking sounds.

He reached out and picked up a dark gray cashmere knit cardigan draped over the bedside table.

She draped it over her rather thin shoulders.

He bent down again.

I fumbled to put on those comfortable, soft-soled cotton slippers.

Shen Wanzhou knelt on the bed.

Looking at his wife's clumsy movements, a hint of heartache and frustration flashed in his eyes.

"Maybe... we should just forget about it..."

She bit her lower lip and loosened her grip on the hem of her pajamas.

"I'm not eating anymore, I'm not actually that hungry."

Chen Yuan turned his head.

Looking at her hypocritical expression, she was clearly craving food but was still putting on a brave face.

A tolerant smile curved at the corners of her mouth.

He stretched out his hand.

He gently ruffled Shen Wanzhou's silver-white hair a couple of times.

"Alright, stop playing the victim."

"At your age, you can't even tell a good lie."

Chen Yuan turned around and walked towards the bedroom door.

"Stay in bed and don't get out of bed in the wind."

"It's ready, I'll bring it up for you."

His voice carried an irresistible sense of reliability.

I walked to the door.

Chen Yuan reached out and grasped the sandalwood cane leaning against the corner of the wall, its surface worn smooth and shiny.

This is a piece of top-quality material that Chen Nianshen specially sourced for him from Southeast Asia a few years ago.

It feels quite heavy when you hold it.

The tip of the cane, with its metal corners, struck the carpet with a dull thud.

"Click".

The bedroom door was pushed open.

The motion-activated nightlights in the corridor lit up one after another as Chen Yuan walked.

It emits a soft, warm orange glow.

Chen Yuan leaned on his cane, taking one step at a time.

I walked down that familiar wooden spiral staircase.

An old injury on my knee throbbed with a hidden ache in the dead of night in early winter.

A hidden ailment left over from my youth spent on the dark web.

At this age, they've all become like debt collectors who show up on time every time it rains.

His steps were unsteady.

The imposing presence of that brisk, decisive manner from back then is gone.

But that broad back.

It still tried its best to stand up straight.

It's like an old pine tree that has stood for a hundred years in the wind and snow.

I'd rather break than bend.

All I had to do was cook for that old woman upstairs.

He absolutely refused to show even a hint of old age or dejection.

The open kitchen on the first floor.

Decades have passed, but the layout here has remained almost unchanged.

The marble countertop remains as clean and new as ever.

However, those high-tech cooking devices from back then have been replaced generation after generation.

Chen Yuan leaned his sandalwood cane against the edge of the kitchen counter.

Reach out and pull open the drawer of the locker.

From the very inside.

He took out an old black cotton apron that had been washed until it was faded and had frayed edges.

This was the first time Shen Wanzhou accompanied him to the supermarket, she picked it out for him herself.

It is also the "battle robe" he has worn for half a century and witnessed countless kitchen smoky moments.

Put your hands behind your back.

The knuckles are stiff due to rheumatism.

It took him some effort to tie a tight knot in the apron strap.

"Smack."

The gas stove switch was pressed.

A bright blue flame instantly leaped up, licking the bottom of the flat-bottomed black iron pan.

In this quiet, still winter night.

The fire dispelled the last bit of chill in the kitchen.

Chen Yuan took out two free-range eggs and a bunch of scallions from the refrigerator.

Although the movements are not as fast as they used to be, leaving afterimages.

But that ingrained, precise control over ingredients and cooking time.

But it has not diminished in the slightest with the passage of time.

The blade struck the solid wood cutting board.

Thump, thump, thump.

The scallion leaves were finely and evenly chopped, emitting a refreshing and spicy aroma.

The lard at the bottom of the pot began to melt.

It makes a faint crackling sound.

Chen Yuan cracked an egg with one hand.

The golden egg liquid, coating the yolk, slides down the edge of the pan into the boiling hot oil.

moment.

The edges of the protein were heated by the high temperature, resulting in a brittle, brownish-red ring.

The rich aroma of eggs blends with the savory flavor of lard.

It permeated the kitchen air with an overbearing force.

This is not some top-grade medicinal dish that requires six hours of simmering.

It's not the boiled cabbage that amazed the world at the Grand Theatre in Paris back then.

This is just a very ordinary bowl of plain boiled egg noodles, with the aroma of soy sauce and scallions.

But it was this bowl of noodles.

Chen Yuan has endured decades of sunrises and sunsets.

She endured countless late nights, the warm light in the kitchen shining just for her alone.

Chen Yuan picked up the slender bamboo chopsticks beside him.

Steadily stirring the bubbling vegetarian noodles in the pot.

The noodles floated up and down in the dark brown broth.

It has absorbed every drop of freshness and aroma.

The rising steam blurred Chen Yuan's weathered face.

Deep black eyes were faintly visible in the white mist.

The ruthlessness and killing intent of yesteryear are gone.

What remains is the purest peace and tranquility after all the superficialities have been washed away.

"That old woman."

Chen Yuan murmured something under his breath.

He turned off the stove.

Using a pure silver ladle, scoop a spoonful of steaming noodle soup from the pot.

Bring it to your lips.

Gently blow away the surface oil and steam.

Hearing the bubbling sound from the pot, Chen Yuan picked up a spoon and tasted the soup, his eyes full of doting affection: "This old woman, her tastes are getting more and more picky."